Upon arriving at the cave, Tristan quickly gathered as many stone spears as he could carry, his mind focused on the impending threat. Each spear was a potential lifeline in the battle ahead. With the weapons secured, he made his way back towards the border of the Netherbane Forest, determination fueling his every step.

As he approached the periphery of the cursed woods, he began to strategize. "I need to set these traps effectively. The more obstacles I can create, the better chance I have of surviving this attack," he thought, his eyes scanning the terrain for the best locations to dug a hole for his traps. He carefully considered the landscape, looking for natural chokepoints and areas where the orcs would be forced to pass.

Tristan began to dig shallow but wide holes, his movements swift and precise. "They don't need to be deep," he murmured to himself, sweat beading on his forehead as he worked. "Just wide enough to catch them off guard. I need the weight of their bodies to do the rest."

He focused on the task, his hands moving methodically as he thought through his plan. The ground was firm, and with each scoop of earth, he envisioned the orcs falling into his traps, impaled by the stone spears lying in wait below.

As he dug, he glanced up occasionally, scanning the treeline for any sign of movement. "I can't let my guard down," he reminded himself, determination etched across his face. "Every moment counts."

With the first hole completed, he moved to the next spot, his adrenaline pumping as he continued to prepare for the impending clash. Each trap was a step closer to survival.

Tristan continued digging traps, moving methodically from one location to another, his heart racing with both fear and anticipation. Each hole he created was a silent testament to his determination to survive and protect his newfound home. "Just a few more," he urged himself, the rhythm of his labor steady and focused.

As he worked, he felt the weight of the looming threat of the orcs pressing down on him, fueling his urgency. He could almost hear their rough voices and heavy footsteps in his mind, driving him to dig faster.

"I need to finish this before they arrive," he thought, glancing back toward the forest as if expecting the orcs to emerge at any moment. With each completed trap, his confidence grew, but so did the realization that he was running out of time.

Once he reached a good distance from his cave, he paused for a moment, looking back at the series of traps he had created. "This should do it," he muttered to himself, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest. "Now, I just need to stay alert and ready."

With the traps set, Tristan turned back toward the cave, intent on gathering more weapons and preparing himself for the battle ahead. He needed to make sure he was ready for anything.

As Tristan settled down to rest, his mind raced through the events leading up to this moment, the loss of his parents, the struggles he faced in this unforgiving world, and the looming threat of the orcs. Yet, exhaustion overtook him, and soon he drifted into a deep sleep, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees his only lullaby.

Tristan is dreaming, in his dreams, he found himself standing in a vast field, the sky bright and clear. His parents appeared before him, their faces warm with pride and love. "You are strong, Tristan," his father said, a reassuring smile on his face. "You carry our legacy. Use it wisely."

Tristan felt a surge of confidence, but the dream shifted, and shadows began to creep in. The orcs loomed in the distance, their snarls echoing in the air. He felt the fear creeping back into his heart, but just as quickly, he reminded himself of the traps he had set and the weapons he had prepared.

"I can do this," he whispered, determination flooding his veins. "I won't let them defeat me."

With that thought, he awoke abruptly, the dark cave around him feeling heavy with silence. His heart raced as he took a moment to collect himself, the dream lingering in his mind. He could hear the faint sounds of nature outside, but no signs of the orcs yet. Tristan stretched and shook off the remnants of sleep, ready to face whatever came next.

"Time to get to work," he said to himself, rising to his feet and preparing for the day ahead.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Tristan continued his routine, training with his sword, spear and meditating to comfort his mind, while keeping all his senses on the surroundings, waiting for the orc horde to arrive. His heart raced with anticipation and determination, knowing that he had prepared as much as he could for the impending confrontation. Each movement was deliberate, every breath a reminder of the battle that lay ahead. As he practiced, he focused on maintaining his composure, reminding himself of his goals to survive in this forest no matter what it takes.

Suddenly, a sounds of orcs screams heard through the forest, echoing from the direction of Tristan's traps. The sound made it clear that some of the orcs had stumbled right into his carefully placed traps. Driven by a mix of anticipation and caution, Tristan hurried toward the noise to check the effectiveness of his work. He advanced carefully, stone spears in hand, ready to throw it if there any opportunities presented themselves amidst the chaos.

Tristan began hurling his spears at the orcs struggling to rise from his trap pits. "This is my chance to thin their numbers," he muttered, steadying his aim with each throw. One by one, his spears found their mark, hitting the trapped orcs.

The orc leader quickly realized they were under attack and commanded the untrapped orcs to chase after Tristan. Noticing this, Tristan darted back toward his cave, knowing the pursuing orcs would soon encounter the dozens of traps he'd set near its entrance.

The orcs chasing Tristan began to fall into his traps one by one, and Tristan quickly readied himself, hurling spears at any orc that tried to claw its way out. The orcs kept coming, filling nearly every trap he'd dug with their struggling bodies. Tristan's arms grew weary as he continued throwing his spears, each strike crucial as only a few traps remained between him and a full encirclement by the orcs.

At last, all of Tristan's traps lay covered by the bodies of fallen orcs, and he found himself surrounded. Gripping his bone spear tightly, he steadied his stance, facing the dozens of orcs crowding in around him.

"D*mn it," he muttered. "They just won't give up. Even after killing so many of them, there's still too many. If they all charge at once, I'll retreat into the cave and take down anyone who tries to squeeze in. Although," he glanced toward the narrow cave entrance, "I'm hoping they'll give up, because of the entrance is to small for them to get in."

The orcs stared at Tristan, snarling, until one stepped forward, clad in armor made from animal hides. A hush fell over the group. Suddenly, the orc spoke.

"You're strong but cunning. No human has ever killed an orc with a single throw as you have."

Tristan was taken aback, astonished to hear an orc speak.

"Orcs can talk?"

The orc continued, its voice booming with authority. "If you can defeat me, one of the generals of this army, all the forces under my command will leave you be."

Uncertain, Tristan replied, "Bu... but how can I trust your word? What if I kill you and your troops suddenly charge at me?"

The orc laughed derisively, its voice echoing in the stillness. "You think you can kill me? Hahaha, that's funny and absurd! But very well…"

The orc raised his hand, signaled the others to step back, and instantly, the entire horde retreated, weapons lowered to the ground. The orc leader bellowed, "Listen up, foolish orcs! This little human claims he can kill me!"

The gathered orcs erupted in laughter, their jeering echoing around them. "Though that's unlikely, if he somehow manages to kill me, you must withdraw and continue our mission, understood?"

The chorus of orcs replied with a thunderous roar, striking their weapons against the ground in agreement.

The orc leader spoke again, his voice filled with mockery. "Are you sure now?"

Tristan replied with confidence, "Even though I'm not certain, this is the only chance I have. Just let me prepare first."

The orc leader chuckled darkly, "Very well. Prepare yourself as best you can, so that when I behead you, you won't regret not giving it your all. Hahaha!"

Tristan retreated into the cave, his heart pounding as he collected the six bone spears he had fashioned and set them just outside the entrance. He then re-entered, grabbing his father's sword, its weight comforting in his grip. With determination burning in his chest, he stepped out to face the orc army once more, standing resolutely before them, ready for the impending confrontation.

Taking a deep breath, Tristan addressed the orc leader, "I'm ready. Are you sure you want to go through with this? Didn't you mention that you had a mission to complete?"

The orc leader rose to his feet, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "Don't worry about that. Initially, that was my priority, but now that you've caught my attention, that mission has become secondary." His eyes gleamed with excitement. "It seems he enjoy tormenting creatures weaker than his self. My blood is boiling now."

Tristan felt a surge of anger rise within him as he met the leader's gaze, recognizing the thrill of battle igniting his own spirit. This confrontation was not just about survival; it was a chance to prove his strength against a formidable foe.